


There's an ache in you, put there by the ache in me

by Enx2103



Category: Life with Derek
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Angst, F/M, Recreational Drug Use, diet smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:27:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28153086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enx2103/pseuds/Enx2103
Summary: But there’s something about being home... the scent of her childhood wrapping her up in fragments of memories. Her old room looks exactly how eighteen year old Casey had left it before college. She takes in every detail, every picture framed with a moment in time she cherished at one point. And then she turns full circle and stares at the wall that kept her from him. It all rushes into her bloodstream like a head high hitting too soon. She feels sixteen again, angsty, dramatic and above all else, confused. She laughs at her past self.Based off Tswift 'Tis The Damn Season
Relationships: Casey McDonald & Derek Venturi, Casey McDonald/Derek Venturi
Comments: 23
Kudos: 44
Collections: Best Of Snap Shots, Look What Discord Made Me Do





	There's an ache in you, put there by the ache in me

**Author's Note:**

> An angsty holiday drabble you didn't ask for…  
> Based off Tswift 'Tis The Damn Season
> 
> This is written differently than my norm...  
> Enjoy.
> 
> (No beta. Deal with it- or don't. I can't tell you what to do.) (But Rolly may or may not come for you if your mean to me, so...*shrug*)

The holidays bring out the best in people. Charity. Joy. Love! But they also bring out the worst in people. And airports in December are no man's land, a place to avoid like the plague if possible. But Casey decides to go through the hell that is holiday travel, just to make it home to her loved ones. Even if it was only for the long weekend. She couldn't be away for more than a few days, because her job in New York had taken over her entire life. But she enjoys it, so she suffers it willingly. (At least that's what she tells herself.)  
  
But there’s something about being home... the scent of her childhood wrapping her up in fragments of memories. Her old room looks exactly how eighteen year old Casey had left it before college. She takes in every detail, every picture framed with a moment in time she cherished at one point. And then she turns full circle and stares at the wall that kept her from him. It all rushes into her bloodstream like a head high hitting too soon. She feels sixteen again, angsty, dramatic and above all else, _confused_ . She laughs at her past self.  
  
Almost as soon as her bag hits the floor, Derek knocks on her bedroom door. Well, the frame really, the door had been left open on purpose, beckoning him. She spins and spots him, leaning against the door frame, balck skinny jeans, vintage leather jacket. His keys in his hand. His hair, his curls, beautiful and defined. He even has that one perfect curl dropping over his forehead just so like he was Clark Kent or something. Her stomach does a flip. It simply was not fair.  
  
He’s literally just standing there, like he was just _waiting_ for her to show up. He only gives her a second to take it all in before he’s spewing some nonsense about needing help with last minute christmas shopping. A lie, she knows. She sees through it instantly. But he's looking at her like she's the only thing in the world worth seeing, so yeah, she doesn't care what excuse he gives, she's going.

* * *

Being in the small car together surrounds her in his scent, his things. It puts her in a Derek filled haze she was no longer familiar with. But still, she swims in it happily, drinking him in like he’s water and she’s lost in the desert.  
  
She’s not the slightest bit surprised when he drives them up to their old highschool, parking the car in his old spot. She knew he had only given her an excuse so they could be alone together, away from the house, the memories, their family. Just for a little while anyway.  
  
He steps out of the car and into the cold December air, wrapping around to lean against the hood of the car. The ground crunches with each step, the snow, ice and salt still clinging to the ground. It takes a second for her body to catch up with her mind, but she follows him.  
  
Before she can get a word in, Derek pulls out a joint, lighting it just as snowflakes start to drift down on them like some sort of fucked up blessing.  
  
“How long are you home for?” he asks without looking, inhaling slowly. He tilts his head back, like he was letting the snow sink into his skin. Snowflakes get stuck in his hair and he looks _ethereal_ _._  
  
She watches him for a second, letting the cold numb him from her answer. The answer she knew he didn’t want to hear. “Sunday,” she finally murmurs, plucking the joint from his fingers. She feels the sparks flying where their fingers touch for the first time in a long time. It isn’t a _new_ feeling, but it was still there, which after all this time was alarming.  
  
He just stares at her, watching carefully as she wraps her lips around his joint. It's almost like kissing him. She hasn’t kissed him yet, only landing a few hours ago. She knew that would change by nightfall. She knew what they had in store.  
  
_“ Sunday_ _,”_ he echos, tasting the word on his tongue. She’s only home for the weekend, just a few days (nights.) Not enough for him. Hell it’s not enough for her ethier. But he doesn't ask her to stay. He doesn't fight it. He just accepts it, stuffing his hands into his pockets, boots kicking at some ice on the ground to distract him from the truth.  
  
Casey lets go of the smoke, watching it mingle in the cold air between them. She wants to laugh because of how ridiculous her life is, but she doesn't. She just stares at their old high school and passes the joint back to him.  
  
Slowly he eases Casey back into his orbit. Happily she accepts the tether bringing her back home.  
  
By the time they’re done, both a little buzzed, but only enough to keep the fears at bay, they sit in the car together to defrost for a bit. They just kind of... _talk_ . Derek shows her some new songs, some of which she instantly adds to her playlist. She’s not sure if the songs are actually good, if the weed is just making it _sound_ better, or if it’s just the Derek effect. But she smiles and listens anyway.  
  
Her fingers draw shapes in the condensation on the windows of the parked car. Little hearts and lyrics. Her name even. But then she wipes it away with a swipe of a hand, because she knows there's not supposed to be any evidence, any record of her place in his life. Even on a foggy window on a cold day...

* * *

The next day is full of family, there was no way around it, it's christmas after all. Casey curls up on the old worn couch, and wraps an old plaid blanket around her body. She tries to hide the ugly christmas pajamas her mom _insisted_ they all wear. And they did, every last one of them, including Derek. 

It was supposed to be a new holiday tradition. But in reality, it was just a mess. But thankfully the parents gave up on trying to take a serious picture early on, knowing their kids well. After pictures they all settled in to watch a movie. Somehow it was Marti’s turns to pick, _again_ .  
  
Casey takes a sip of her hot chocolate, catching a marshmallow on her tongue, letting the sweetness melt the melancholy that chills her bones. Being home had a way of making her overwhelmingly happy, with a touch of sadness around the edges like an old faded photograph.

She looks up from her mug only to see Derek across the room in his chair. He’s wearing the same matching red and black pjs, but he looks so much better in them then everybody else. His body filling it out like they were tailor made just for him.The sleeves rolled up, making him look casual in the ridiculous get up. Again, Casey thought to herself, _life isn't fair._  
  
He winks at her, subtle, but calculated. No one the wiser. His brown eyes glow gold in the flicker of the fairy lights on the tree, like he needs any extra glow to make him even more irresistible. A flurry of butterflies explode in her stomach like fireworks. She anticipates a repeat of the night before...  
  
Last night he snuck into her bedroom. Being quiet was hard but, life with Derek had made her an expert at muffling sounds in a pillow like an echo chamber. (But still he worked to make her scream; risking _everything_ just to know she was enjoying herself. His ego never slept. That never changed. ) 

Casey felt a tingle dance down her spine. She remembers the way it felt when he kissed every vertebrae of her back before pulling her hips up to meet his. The memory made Casey close her legs, keeping her thighs tight to relieve the familiar ache building inside her. She was around her family. She really should be able to keep it together. But she could feel his eyes on her as they watched the movie. She doesn't dare sneak another peek up at him. She isn't sure if she was strong enough to look away again.  
  
She has two more nights at home. _With him._ A blessing and a curse.  
  
She closes her eyes and inhales hoping it will calm the storm brewing inside of her. But she just gets a flash of a memory instead… Of her fingers grabbing handfuls of his hair like a lifeline, because that's what he is to her. A little dose of home- of happiness, to get her by.

Casey inwardly groans, not being able to shake him. Not in real life or her memories. She gives up on the movie all together, not even following along, and makes her way into the kitchen instead. She needs space, from them, from him. From herself, really.  
  
She knows whatever is going on between them, it's not one sided, It has always worked both ways, ever since the very first kiss. She knows she could fill that void in his life. Those little dark circles under his eyes, she could melt them away in a month, maybe a week if he let her. And he could do the same for her. Expert fingers working away all the kinks the world has pressed deep into her tissues like scars. He makes her fall apart but puts the pieces back together with his lips and she lets him. Every single time.   
  
“ Case ,” he hissed when he came apart the night before, his body falling onto her like her favorite weighted blanket, easing the anxiety in her bones. She took everything he gave her, storing the memory away in her own personal server for the days she needs a little bit _more_ . Her nails scraped his back, drawing large pink arches like rainbows across his skin. The rainbows they could never see together. They were always what happened in the dark... never the light. Never public. Never seen.  
  
_I love you ,_ she thinks, but doesnt say. Because there's no use making things more complicated.  
  
She can still feel his lips pressed against her collar and a layer of sweat binding them together, _if only it would hold,_ she thinks, calculating the hours they had left together. The ounces of him she can fill up on before she needs to leave.  
  
Nights with Derek... (the feelings associated with it) are the reason she avoids coming home all together. He never asks her to stay, but the yearning, _the pull_ is strong. She never knows if she'll actually be able to walk away. But she does. She always does.   
  
He follows her into the kitchen. Breaking her out of the memories. Pulling her back to the present. To another version of him.  
  
“You’re not happy,” Derek murmurs when he's close enough to her in the kitchen. _Alone_ .  
  
She turns to him and stares, not bothering to paint on the mask he sees through too well. He’ll call her out on it. He’s the only one who knows her well enough to do so. “You aren't either,” she argues. It's a weak argument but it's true and she knows it. They don’t talk about it, but somethings up with him too.  
  
He leans against the counter, crossing his arms like a barrier protecting his heart from her greedy hands. He just shrugs like it's nothing to be worried about. “At least I'm not pretending to be,” he says, arching an eyebrow in her direction like a challenge.  
  
She flinches, feeling another nail slammed into their coffins. She purses her lips and walks away. But the conversation isn't over and she knows it.  
  


* * *

After a long day of walking on eggshells they find themselves _exactly_ where they both knew they would be. In each other's arm under the cover of darkness. He takes his time unbuttoning her ugly christmas pjs, but damn does he make it feel like it's the silkiest piece of lingerie on her body. He worships her, praises her for just _existing_ in his orbit.  
  
He lets his body say what he mouth won't. And she responds, just the same.

By the end, her bottom lip is red and raw from too much biting down to keep herself quiet. But she can't let out a sound, not a single whimper. She refuses to look weak in front of him.  
  
But the second a groan slips past his chest she smiles in triumph like a gold medalists. She won.

* * *

On sunday night she finds herself on the plane again. Her thighs are still sore, and her body is full of marks he left like Christmas presents for her to find later on. She cries on that flight home to New York. Away from him and back to reality. Because it doesn't get easier- the leaving him. No matter how many times she does it.  
  
She cant help but think about what it could have been if she would have just stayed. What could he do with more time? She could only imagine, only _dream_ about it. (She would dream about it, for days, weeks even.) Would they have worked it out? Told their family? Would they have accepted it?  
  
She doesn't let those thoughts linger long. The possibilities and what if’s were dangerous things.  
  
She knows there will come a time where she kisses him for the last time. And that day, the sun won't shine as bright as it used to. That day she'll lose a part of herself, the part she refused to acknowledge had always been his. But it's ok, cause they will both hurt just the same. They'll call it even, anyway.

* * *

In January the memories start to fade. Slow but sure. They become fuzzy images, a night with a man she made up. She can't even recall if what they had done together was real or just a really good _dirty_ dream she had. (It couldn't possibly be real, right?)  
  
It’s so easy to pretend, because they don't talk about it, they never do. That's the rule. What happens at home, stays there.  
  
As she made her way home from work that brisk February evening, she spotted him. Leaning against a brick wall of her apartment with a bent leg, looking all kinds of casual. A duffle bag over his shoulder looking like he came off a runway at New York fashion week. He looked so good there. Like he belonged. Like he was a native, waiting for a car to pick him up.  
  
When he spots her, he smiles. That stupid smile that melts away every reservation she has in her body. She runs into his arms before she can even feel her body moving. None of it even matters because in seconds, her arms are wrapped around him, fingers digging into the hair at the nape of his neck. His arms are secure around her back, pressing her impossibly close to his strong build, bringing her feet off the ground. Her head tucked in his neck, bathing in his familiar scent. Her heart beat thumping in her ears because he’s real and he's there.  
  
_“ Hey princess_ _,”_ he chuckles into her shoulder where his face is pressed up against. She can feel the smirk on his lips against her skin, like it's a natural everyday thing to have him there with her. In the light.  
  
He was never supposed to come to New York, her hometown love.  
  
But he always broken the rules. What’s another one?

**Author's Note:**

> They was very flowery. Very little dialogue. Present tense.  
> Everything I don't normally do. Hope you got the vibes!
> 
> Also, that last scene...I really meant to make it angsty and just sad. BUT I WANTED A HAPPY ENDING!


End file.
